Two Lives
by Callicott
Summary: This fic starts just after Martha had the abortion and she kissed Jack. It leads off from there. It is basically an exploration of the Jack/Martha relationship from Jack's pov
1. Prologue

**Two Lives**

_Two Lives: Jack and Martha. Is it too late?_

**Prologue**

And as she came in to start her shift, there they were. All six of them. Three happy little couples. As bright, as bright can be. This was going to be awkward. She had avoided contact with both since the kiss. And she could only suppose they'd been avoiding her in turn. It was bound to happen though. Only bar in town and she worked there. People need to drink. Kim looked up from the group merriment and caught her eye across the room. She gave a casual wave and then pretended to be in a rush to start serving.

Noticing Kim's friendly smile Jack turned around to discover the identity of the recipient. It was as suspected. It was strange; acting like strangers. The kiss had created a barrier and he wasn't sure either wanted to knock it down. It was easier like this. There could be no confusion, no question marks. Just his life and hers. If they were ven diagrams they were mutually exclusive. If there were journeys they were destined to travel they were mapped out on different pages and in different time-zones. No more intersections – not anymore.

She walked along the foreshore and there they were again. All six of them. Again. She put her head down to avoid making eye contact.

"And then Rach thought it was three instead of thirty," Kim said and they all cracked up. Dinner party conversation on the beach. They even had the sparkly to sip. Jack raised his head and noticed her striding out above his eye-line. She was alone and she appeared to be in a hurry. A pang of guilt. Should he have invited her? He doubted she would have appreciated any such offer. Still perhaps he could run up now and suggest she join them. But already it was too late; she was someway off and to catch up would look strange. That word again. Having to watch what you said and did, having to avoid contact because of what it meant. Or didn't mean. He never thought it would come to that with her.

They were all watching tv together – the four of them – when the other two popped their heads in the door.

"Hey guys, what's going on?"

"Nothing, just _NCIS_."

"Okay, just wondering if you all wanted to come to dinner at our place tomorrow night? Seven o'clock."

"Sounds great. You're free right Jack?"

"Yeah," Jack said, without much enthusiasm.

"We're in," Kit and James added.

"Great," Kim replied.

"So it's just the six of us?" Jack enquired casually. "No one else is coming?"

"Well we've only invited you guys so far. There's no one else is there?"

Jack felt a tinge of annoyance at that comment. She was a no one now was she? She'd shared a house with those two; Kim had been lost in the bush with her. Even though she'd become pretty distant lately, and wasn't in a twosome, she was hardly a no one. He felt the need to remind them she was a someone, for reasons he was not quite sure of.

"There's others," he replied.

"Oh?" Rachel asked friendly. "Who did we forget?"

Jack tried desperately to think of others who weren't Martha. "Dan and Leah." He didn't particularly want them to be invited – another couple – but he couldn't think of anyone else. He really needed to introduce more single friends into the group.

"Dan's parents. Leah told me the other day," Rachel explained.

"There's Martha," Jack added, and snuck a sideways glance at Sam to read her reaction. They hadn't really discussed her or the kiss since the explanation on the beach. It wasn't an elephant but it was untested water. However she appeared impassive, unperturbed.

"Well we were thinking it's kind of a couple thing," Kim said, providing Jack with the answer he knew was coming, and dreading.

"It's always a couple thing," he tried to say lightly. "It's the six of us and that's it. I mean it's always going to be a couple thing is what I'm saying. So does that mean we'll never do anything with Martha anymore, invite her to anything? Unless she becomes a couple too?" Everyone looked at him a little strangely, except Sam, who remained unperturbed. Did anything fluster her? The kiss, but she soon got over that, it seemed.

Rachel, ever the diplomat, tried to smooth the waters. "You're right. We should invite Martha. It feels like ages since I've seen her. We just didn't want to make her feel awkward, but I'll ring her tonight."

"She probably won't come," Jack mumbled. "It doesn't matter, I was just saying."

"No, I'll give her a call. Anyway see you tomorrow guys."

"Yeah, see ya," they all chorused.

"That was a bit weird back there, wasn't it?"

"What was?"

"Jack talking about Martha. Being all protective."

"He's just looking out for her. They are good friends after all."

"Yeah, I guess."

Martha lay on her bed with her eyes closed trying to shut out the world. Her phone denied the possibility. She checked the caller id and it was Rachel. Strange. Rachel rarely called her.

"Hello?"

"Hey Martha, it's me, Rach."

"Hi Rach. How's things?"

"Great. I was just calling to see if you wanted to come to dinner tomorrow night?"

"Dinner?" Martha asked, as though the concept was unheard of.

"Yeah, with me, Kim, Sam, Jack, Kit and James."

It was all Martha could do not to laugh. Three couples plus one. No thanks.

"Sorry, I'm busy." Martha tried to sound apologetic.

"Oh? You could pop round after maybe?"

"I'm busy all night," she stated bluntly. For no reason that was fair she was annoyed that they'd even asked her. Did they have no idea in their happy little couple kingdom?

"Oh, ok. Well another time."

"Yeah, another time." Martha angrily pressed the red button on her phone to end the conversation before chucking it aside and pushing her face deep into the pillow, allowing darkness to envelop her.

"You suggested it?" She honestly didn't think, off all six, it would have been Jack's idea. "Yeah, well it feels like we haven't hung out in ages."

"That's because we haven't."

"Exactly."

"No, not exactly. You don't get it do you? I don't want to hang out with you Jack. You and your perfect family, with your perfect partner friends. I'm sure I sound like a bitter, twisted bitch right now, and maybe I am, but I can't do it. You have your life Jack and it's great. Sam's great, Rory's great, the whole thing is great. And don't get me wrong, I really am happy for you. You are the best man I know and you deserve all that you have. But I don't have that, any of that, and it's my fault. My fault entirely. I chose my path and you chose yours. They're different paths Jack."

"That doesn't mean we can't be friends."

"It doesn't feel like friendship anymore. It feels like pity."

"That's not what it is."

"My problems are my problems Jack, not yours. You've got your life. Go live it. And I'll live mine."


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One **

_Thirty months on … _

"Get the marg from the fridge would you?"

"Sure," Jack called and plunked it down in front of Sam who started buttering toast for everyone.

"What's that?" he asked of the papers in front of her.

"I'm filing for divorce."

"Sam, we're not even married yet."

She smiled. "No, it's from Shane."

"You're not divorced?" Jack felt slightly foolish asking that question. After over two years in a relationship he should probably have known. He'd just assumed.

"Never really had the opportunity. It was all so rushed – when I had to run."

"Of course," Jack replied sympathetically and rubbed the small of her back while peering over her shoulder at the papers.

"So now he and his henchmen are in jail, think there's any chance you'll revert back to Kylie?"

"No way. Kylie Deeks? It's awful. You don't think being on the run was the only reason for changing my name do you?"

Jack laughed. "It is a bit Kath and Kimish. Besides, I'm used to Sam," and he bent down to kiss her.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" mumbled Jack through a mouthful of toast as he flicked through the morning paper.

"You're still married."

Jack swallowed the toast, feeling the cold, sodden lump slide uncomfortably down the back of his throat. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Maybe it's time you started thinking about a divorce too. I mean it's practical that's all. It's not like I'm hinting at us getting married or anything."

"Hey, you don't want to marry me?" Jack laughed, sounding mock offended. "You're right though. I'll look into it this weekend." With that the two of them resumed their breakfast routines. "What are your grounds?" Jack said suddenly, looking up. "Attempted murder, drug dealing?" He laughed. Sam didn't. She didn't find it funny.

888

_My problems are my problems, not yours. You've got your life. Go live it. And I'll live mine. _

So he did. He worked, and played and worked some more. It was a pretty good life on the whole. It contained promotions, pay rises, responsibilities, weekend brunches at cafes reading the papers while waiting to pick Rory up from football. It contained Sam. And sex with Sam. Nice sex, regular sex. It contained a house and a mortgage, with the beach only a five minute ride away. It contained surfing and surfing lessons for Rory. It contained a trip to Europe to see the Coliseum and the Sistine Chapel and Euro Disney. All that in two years. Not bad he thought. He wondered what her life contained. A house, a mortgage, a job, a man? When she left she had none of those things. But you never knew with her. She was capable of having it all if she wanted, but that was the trouble. She never knew what she wanted, or she changed her mind, or she wanted the wrong things. If she had wanted them at all. He doubted she'd want any of the things he had. That wasn't her style. When it looked like she could have had them she gave them up. Saying it was his fault, but she was the one who walked out, on a marriage she wasn't prepared to fight for. She discarded it upon a whim, as was her way. 

_I can't believe you'd actually jump off a cliff to get back in my good books. _

He smiled at the memory. So typical of her, didn't think about the consequences. Just went for it. So different to him. He was steady and grounded and sensible. He didn't shout, he didn't make rash decisions; he was reliable and responsible. Exactly what Sam needed. They were well suited. He was comfortable in his life. He didn't want to go back and dredge up the past. It should stay there, as a distant memory, which he could occasionally remember fondly but on the whole put behind him as one rare, rash mistake. But it couldn't truthfully be in the past until the divorce came through. And to get the divorce he had to find her. One quick meeting was all it would take. And perhaps that wouldn't even be necessary.

888

He picked up the phone and stared at the receiver. He was nervous. He felt like he was back in high school waiting to ring the number of Andrea Jones – the first girl he'd ever asked out. The first girl he'd ever phoned. Forcing himself into action, he punched in the numbers and waited for the connection. When he heard the ringing start he was tempted to hang up. But as he deliberated with his weaker alter ego he heard a familiar voice on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Sal. Hi. It's Jack. Jack Holden."

"Jack?" There was a pause as she registered this surprise. "Wow, it's been a while."

"Two Years. How've you been?"

"Good."

"And the others?"

"Um, good. Cassie's off at uni in the city, Ric's finished his apprenticeship. Brad and me are still here of course."

"You and Brad still going strong then?"

"Yes." Were they married? He didn't feel comfortable asking.

"Listen Sal," Jack said, cutting in before she could continue. "Is Alf around?"

"No sorry, he's in the city."

Well Sal would have to do. He couldn't pretend he'd called for a friendly chat. "Oh, ok, well maybe you'll know. I need to get in contact with Martha. About our divorce. It's been nearly three years and it's time we sorted it out. Do you have her number?" There was only silence in response.

"Sal? You there?"

"Yeah, sorry Jack." Another silence. "Martha's in a coma."

Jack felt his insides slow down and his face flush hot.

"She has been for six months now," Sally continued. "Roo's out from New York and the Mackenzies are down from the country." There was an intake of breath then a quiet sigh. "I go down there every second week and Alf's down there constantly."

"Down where?"

"The city."

"She's been living in Sydney since she left the bay then?"

"Yes. She only just recently started work as a paramedic, after all the training. Did you ever speak to her?"

"No, not since the bay. How did it happen?"

"During one of her shifts there was a front on collision with another car. A drunk driver. She was in the back with a patient. Her partner was driving and he died instantly. So did the patient. It was awful. We tried to contact you but no one had your details and we only had an old number for Tony which was disconnected. I'm sorry."

It wasn't her fault. He had made no effort to stay in contact with anyone in the bay. It had been two years with no contact and that was his choice.

"I know this must be a shock Jack." It was Jack's turn to not reply.

"If you want to visit her, she's at St Vincent's in Sydney. You'd be welcome. Where are you these days anyway?"

" Perth."

"Oh. Maybe it's too far then. But if you want to."

"Yeah, thanks." Jack was struggling to stay with this conversation.

"Before you go, give me your number. I'll call you with any news."

Jack gave it and he had to ask. "Do you mean there's no hope for her? Do you mean the machines are keeping her alive?"

"No, it's not like that. There is a chance she could wake up. But," and Sally paused. "The longer it goes on obviously," and her sentence drifted off incomplete.

Two hours later Jack sat alone in the kitchen of his house and tried to process the news and what he should feel. He hadn't seen Martha in two and a half years, he was calling to get a divorce and he didn't plan on keeping in contact. Was he allowed to feel emotion? Was he meant to? Viewing it rationally, she was nothing in his life and vice versa. The official title of husband and wife signified nothing in this case. Perhaps he should conclude it was none of his business. Yet he could not move past the shock. Not only at the news but at his distance from it. _Perhaps it's too far_ Sally had said, even though they were dealing in the stakes of life and death. Once, he would have been the person always at her side; and now, he had a choice whether to even pay her a visit.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two **

Over the month that followed Jack tried to move on from the information. Accept it was no longer his place to care. But not hearing any news was unbearable and he soon rang Sally again to find out there was no change. Yet he remained unfocused and Sam immediately noticed.

"Maybe you should go see her," she said one Sunday afternoon, as he sat distracted, on the couch.

Jack didn't bother pretending not to know who she was talking about. "I don't know. It's not really my place."

"Jack, if she does go, you're going to need some sort of closure. You can't go on like this; that much is obvious."

"It's just…"

"You don't have to explain. I just need you to be here with us again."

Jack smiled and nodded. "I will be, I promise," he said and kissed her forehead.

"I'm looking for Martha Mackenzie please. She's a patient here."

"Are you a relative?"

Jack hesitated. "Ahhh, husband, technically. But we're separated."

The woman looked at him suspiciously. "Room 505, fifth floor," she finally relented.

"Thanks."

As he travelled up in the lift nervousness washed over him, while a feeling of faint nausea settled at the back of his stomach. What would she look like, he wondered? And who would be there? He had told Sal he was coming and she had seemed pleased enough, but Sal was so polite you could never tell. Perhaps they all thought he was some huge hypocrite coming to see her comatose when he had never bothered to visit before. And then there was the fact that the only reason he had found out – that she'd being lying prostrate for six whole months – was because he had called to get a divorce. All up, it did look bad.

When he arrived at the room the door was closed. He knocked and there was no answer. He knocked again and again nothing.

"A person in a coma doesn't respond to knocking."

He jumped at the voice. "God Alf, you scared me half to death."

"Sal told me you were coming."

"Yeah, I flew in from Perth today." 

"How've you been?"

"Yeah, um, ok. How's Martha?" Alf raised his eye-brows. "Sorry, I meant…"

"It's ok. No change. Anyway you can see for yourself now."

Jack turned around to face the door but was petrified of opening it. Instead he just stood there uncomfortably, with Alf's hot breath on his neck.

"She hasn't grown three heads you know. She's still the same old Martha."

Ashamed by his cowardice and with Alf hovering behind him, Jack had no choice but to open the door and walk in.

The first thing he noticed was her hair. It had been cut short; later he would find out this made it easier for bathing. Her skin was also paler and her face more gaunt. He surprised himself he could make the comparison so easily but looking at her now, he realised he had never forgotten that face. And despite the forced changes of a hospital coma, she did look just like the same old Martha he once knew. The same large, defined features and startling beauty. But what was he doing here – ogling her? Was that why he came?

"I think I'll leave you two alone for a bit." Alf cut into his thoughts and sent him into a state of panic.

"Oh that's not necessary."

"No really, it's ok. I've got things to do and it will give you a chance to talk to her."

"About?"

"Anything, a different voice is invaluable. And I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear yours."

"You mean she can hear?"

"In my mind she can hear – it's what keeps me going." Wrapped up with his own concerns Jack had forgotten how hard this must be on Alf and he guiltily offered a sympathetic smile.

"I'll come back later, and Sal will be in later on too. She's down from the bay for a visit." As Alf closed the door behind him Jack drew up a chair beside his sleeping, estranged wife. He smiled at her, and pondered what to say.

"Well this is a good chance to get a word in. I'm used to you telling me what to do." Jack laughed. "It's Jack, obviously." Instead of the sound of her voice which should fill the space, his joke was greeted with silence. Taking her hand he grasped it gently in his own and touched the skin to his face; staining her flesh with his tears. "Hi Martha," he managed, and pressed her palm against the flat of his nose.

"Hey Mr. Stewart, what's up?"

"Sal, Jack's arrived. He's at the hospital now." As she listened on her mobile, she heard the excitement in his voice.

"Really? That's great. How is he?"

"Fine. I'm so glad he's come Sal."

"Yeah, it will be good to see him again."

"But Sal, it's more than that, it's the change I feel is necessary."

"I'm sorry Mr Stewart, I'm not following."

"Jack being here, with Martha, it's going to help her, it could be the difference. I can feel it."

"Mr Stewart, you shouldn't get your hopes up."

"He was the love of her life Sal. That must mean something."

"I didn't realise you were such a romantic."

"I don't know what I am anymore Sal, or what I believe in. But I know this, my granddaughter, she will wake up, and having Jack here will mean everything to that happening." Sally ended the conversation extremely worried. She didn't know what Alf expected of Jack but she had grave doubts as to whether he could deliver.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three **

Jack glanced around the table at all these faces which had suddenly appeared in his life – like strange apparitions from the past. They were all present: the Stewarts, Sally's family, the Mackenzies, most of whom he had only briefly met. There was no Brett Macklin however, who upon being told the news of his daughter's bleak outlook replied it probably wasn't appropriate if he became too closely involved. And perhaps he was right. Why start caring close to death when you had never cared in life?

As all these old faces questioned him about his recent past he was reminded of dinners at the caravan park before the marriage when he used to receive grillings from Morag and unnecessary fishing tips from Alf. Except this time there was no Martha. Instead he was seated between Macca and Matilda. They were well into the fourth course of a Thai banquet and Jack had already consumed four glasses of red even though he was no longer a heavy drinker. Macca meanwhile was knocking back the beer, and indulging in reminiscing as he did so.

"You remember Martha's nineteenth?"

"Yeah, that was a great night. A big one."

"We had some fun didn't we?"

"Sure did."

"Mate, they were the best days of my life. I didn't realise how good I had it – Cassie, Bub, the bay. And then I stuffed it all up."

"But it seems you and Cassie worked things out?" Jack glanced down towards the far end of the table where Cassie was seated, talking to Ric.

"She speaks to me now; we managed to sort something out after the accident. But she'll never forgive me and I don't expect her to."

"But you still like her?"

"Only girl I've ever loved." Macca laughed and shook his head. "Pathetic really."

Jack couldn't help but pity Macca – a rare chance at real happiness destroyed by his own weakness and brutal actions.

"Anyway, I think the point was to try and not be depressed tonight. Sorry mate."

"Nah, that's ok."

"So, what are you doing these days?" It was clear Macca was eager to change the subject.

"Still in the squad – in Perth." 

"And you're still going out with Sam?"

"Yeah. She's great" Jack added, unsure what else to say.

"Why didn't you and Martha keep in touch?" Macca asked abruptly, and Jack suddenly realised he was being interrogated, yet in an undesired switch in the power balance, he found himself as victim, not perpetrator.

"I don't know, I guess we just drifted apart. Had no real reason to."

"It's a shame really."

"What is?"

"What happened between you two. The way it finished up." Jack wished Macca hadn't said that. In fact he wished this entire conversation wasn't happening.

"Yeah well, some things just aren't meant to be. Anyway I'm very happy with Sam."

"Sorry mate," Macca said quickly, finally noticing Jack's unease. "I didn't mean to suggest you weren't."

"You didn't," Jack cut in. "It's fine, just no use dredging up the past that's all. Anyway excuse me for a minute would you, I've got to use the loo." As Jack left the table he wondered what he was doing here. It was supposed to be easy. One quick phone call and one quick divorce. Instead he was amongst all these people he had tried to forget, in a city he didn't live in, away from his life and its comfortable routine. Away from the woman he loved and the boy he called his own. What had he thought coming here would achieve? Closure? As if it was that simple, he realised angrily, and scorned his own naivety. As he reached the bathroom door he wanted nothing more than to keep walking; out of the restaurant, the dinner and the lives of all these people, who marched incessantly towards him, brandishing their questions and their memories.


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four **

"Interest rates have risen," Macca commented, scanning the headlines. "Apparently it's likely to be an election issue." He looked up from the paper and glanced at Martha who offered no response. Instead she lay as she always did; her pixie cut framing her cheekbones and her long lashes hiding eyes that gave away nothing. "Mmmm, probably not the sort of news that'd wake anyone up from a coma," Macca accepted and went back to the front page. "Let's see if I can find something more interesting."

As Sally watched him search the morning's _Herald_ for a piece likely to interest his sister she sipped her latte comfortably and thought about the man who now sat opposite her. In the initial stages of Martha's coma it had been a real struggle for Sally to be around Macca. She knew Martha had forgiven him and that they were very close in the city but she could not move past what he had done to Cassie. Every time she saw his face she saw Cassie's bruises. However as Martha's coma stretched on they were both forced to spend more time together and she began to see a side to Macca she had never known existed. She learnt that everyday, without fail, Macca would visit his sister and when she herself was down on weekends, she would often walk in on him combing his sister's hair or singing her tunes on his guitar. He was also generous, she discovered – always vacating his seat whenever another visitor came in and offering to get them a coffee whereupon he refused to take money for it. His easy manner was well suited to the delicacy of the situation as he often helped to defuse tense moments when someone was on the brink of not coping. In some ways she began to realise why Cassie had given him a second chance and actually regretted that there was another side to him. Without that one, determining flaw, he was a good man whom Cassie could have loved. She only hoped that the counselling he had received the second time around had actually worked and he would never make the same mistake again. For what it was worth Martha insisted that he wouldn't. As Sally mulled this over she was brought back into the present when the object of her thoughts stopped reading from the paper and addressed a new presence in the room.

"Hey mate."

"Hi," Jack replied and felt awkward as all attention was directed towards him.

"Jack," Sally said cheerfully, "How did you enjoy the dinner last night?"

"It was nice," Jack said lightly and moved towards the bed.

"It wasn't too much for you?"

"Of course not."

"That's good," and Sally rose from the chair. "As much as I don't mean to be rude, I've actually got to be off. I'm heading back to the bay this morning."

"Oh? When will you be back?"

"Not 'til the weekend after next unfortunately. I do hope you'll still be here Jack?"

Jack hadn't thought that far ahead. He barely knew what he was doing for the rest of today, let alone two weeks from now.

"Um, I'm not sure."

"Of course, no need to plan everything yet," Sally said quickly. "Anyway, whatever you decide, it's been lovely to see you again." As they said their goodbyes and Sally exited the room, Jack took a seat in the now unoccupied chair beside Martha's bed. As he did so it struck him he hadn't addressed her or acknowledged her presence and he wondered what proper coma etiquette required. Were you meant to say hello when you arrived in the room, ask them questions as though they could respond? Instead he said nothing and glanced across at Macca, hoping he would take the lead. However Macca seemed more interested in dredging up last night again, much to Jack's annoyance.

"I am sorry about the dinner mate. I really didn't mean to suggest you weren't happy with Sam."

"Honestly Macca, just forget it. I didn't think you did. I was just over-tired after all the emotion of the day. Let's move on from it yeah?"

Macca studied Jack and noticed the tightening of the voice and the forced smile. "Sure," he replied and stood up to leave. "I actually have to be off too."

"Where?" Jack asked alarmed. He didn't want to be left alone with Martha, not knowing what to say or do.

"Work mate."  
"Oh yeah, of course." Jack realised stupidly that these people did have lives outside Martha's hospital room. He however had no life in Sydney, nothing to distract him from why he was here. He just had her, and feeling her silent presence weigh on the room, he wondered how he would fill the gaps. He decided to ask Macca for advice. "What do you talk about – with Martha, I mean." 

"Anything and everything. I read the paper this morning, sometimes I talk about my life, what's going on in it, sometimes I talk about the past. Sometimes I play my guitar."

"Your guitar?" Jack sounded interested.

"Yeah," Macca replied and motioned with his eyes to the corner of the room where Jack now noticed a guitar case propped up against the wall.

"It's here?"

"Sure is. Why, you thinking of playing?"

"Well, if you wouldn't mind. I mean, do you think Martha likes that?"  
"Probably not," Macca laughed. "Not my playing at least. She certainly never hesitated to tell me how bad it was when she could speak. Still, I figure if she hates it that much, she might be forced to wake up and tell me to shut up."

Jack laughed. "So you wouldn't mind then. If I had a go?"  
"Knock yourself out mate," and Macca prepared to leave. As he reached the door however he stopped and turned back to face Jack. "Hey mate I was thinking, I'm playing touch footy tonight; I do it every Monday. It's just a casual thing with a few mates. You wanna come along?" Jack thought about the offer and knew he had no choice but to accept. He certainly had no excuses lined up, no one to pretend to need to see or nowhere to pretend to need to be. And besides, touch footy may be fun. Once, a long time ago, he'd been quite good. "Yeah, why not?"  
"Great, I'm going straight from work. We play at the Northside Oval, I'll text you the details later. Starts at six, and afterwards, we'll go for some beers. Always the best part," Macca grinned before finally exiting the room.

888

Jack sat cradling the guitar in his lap and strummed a few random chords. He pondered over what to play – trying to think of what he knew well enough so it wouldn't be too embarrassing if any nurses decided to enter the room. He also thought back over what music Martha had listened to. She was always a rock girl which he had appreciated. But she also liked that folk pop stuff like Xavier Rudd and Pete Murray which he couldn't stand. There was no way he was playing that, even if he did know how, which he didn't. Actually, it didn't even really matter what Martha liked as Jack's repertoire was very limited. He had little time to play the guitar these days what with work and Rory. He discovered that kids became your life; whatever they wanted to do was what you wanted to do. So weekends were bike rides and surfing and he hadn't touched his guitar in over six months. It was a shame really, how as you headed towards thirty you seemed to lose your identity, become a person you had never intended on being. Finally Jack settled on one of the tunes he had learnt years ago and was one of his favourite songs since the first moment he heard it. He used to play it in the bay and he knew Martha liked it. It was also quite a nice song to play to someone in a coma he reasoned, for whom the sky was but a dream and whose body was eternally bound to a sterile hospital bed.

888

"Ok, Martha," he spoke aloud nervously. "I'm going to play a song: Under the Milkyway by The Church. Um, I hope you like it." Hearing himself say all this into the silent room he suddenly felt utterly ridiculous – as though Martha was some audience or a judge and he was auditioning for _Australian Idol_. Actually, he wouldn't be too bad playing this song. "Anyway, here goes," he continued and then glanced around suspiciously, checking the door to make sure no one was about to make an unwelcome entrance.

_Sometimes when this place gets kind of empty_. He started cautiously; still worried a nurse would suddenly appear and start laughing. _Sound of their breath fades with the light_, he continued. _I think about the loveless fascination. Under the Milky Way tonight_. As his voice got stronger Jack started to enjoy himself and began to sing a little louder and strum a little harder. _Lower the curtain down on Memphis. Lower the curtain down all right. I got no time for private consultation. Under the Milky Way tonight_. He was now in his stride and confident in his ability, looked away from the security of the guitar and up at Martha before launching into the chorus; smiling both to himself and to her as he did so.

_Wish I knew what you were looking for  
Might have known what you would find  
Wish I knew what you were looking for  
Might have known what you would find _


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five **

Macca was shouting at Jack to go wide and receive the pass but Jack had no intention of even attempting to make position. Instead he doubled over and gasped for breath, trying to release air into his burning lungs and ease this agony.

"Mate, you were on for the try," Macca shouted, running up to meet him. "Last play of the game – we were there."

"I'm buggered," was all Jack could manage. Slowly he rose to a standing position. "How the hell do you do this every week?"

"Construction work. Keeps you in shape."

"I didn't realise I was out of shape."

"Coppers, they're lazy bastards. Fat too, most of them."

"I wouldn't say I'm fat," Jack said and glanced down at his belly. I mean I'll admit I haven't exactly got a six pack but I don't have a pot either."

"Lazy, fat and vain," Macca grinned. "C'mon, let's hit the showers before we head to the pub."

888

Roo sat by her daughter's bedside and stroked the chestnut hair away from the pale face. Tomorrow – if it was a fine day – she'd ask the nurse for a wheelchair and take Martha out onto the balcony and try and get some sun on her. She proposed this plan to Alf who was in the arm chair opposite. He grunted in agreement before they both lapsed back into silence. It was finally broken by a quiet statement, spoken in a matter of fact fashion.

"Do you know Dad, I'm probably the voice Martha least recognises," Roo said.

"What do you mean?"

"Before her accident, Martha visited me for two weeks. We spoke occasionally on the phone but that was it. This is the longest amount of time I've ever spent with my daughter. Now she's in a coma. What does that say about me as a mother?"

"There are a whole lot of reasons for that Roo."

"There's no excuses. I couldn't even make her wedding."

"To be fair, Martha didn't give you much notice."

"I still didn't come. I shouldn't even call myself her mother. The Mackenzies are her real family. And you. At least you've been there for her."

"Roo, don't play the blame game. It won't do anyone any good."

"It not a game, it's reality. Brett and I have been awful parents. Martha deserved so much better."

"Well you can make up for it when she wakes up."

"If she does, I've decided to move back from New York." 

"Not if, when."

"Yes, when," Roo agreed, trying to muster up as much conviction as Alf always showed.

888

"You sure it's okay if I crash?"

"Yeah, no problems mate. You know you don't even have to stay in the hotel at all. You should stay with me as long as you're here. I've got the spare room after all."

"Really?"

"Yeah, no problems."

"Are you sure?"

"Look mate, I'm not offering to do your cooking and cleaning, just giving you somewhere to crash."

"Well okay, cool then."

Pushing open the front door, Macca switched on the light and Jack glanced around him. The mismatched St. Vinnies furniture, cheap paintings and peeling posters shouted out twenty-something flat yet for Jack it was strange. He'd lived like this once though – back in the bay when he'd shared with Kim. Then there'd been beers in the fridge and mess on the floor. They'd stay up late on weeknights drinking and watching some random cricket match on fox – broadcast from halfway across the globe. Or Martha would come round and they'd have sex in the afternoon. The perks of shift work. It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed the unique pleasures of daytime sex. Now it was a twenty minute affair before bed, twice a week, as part of the routine. Back then Martha would pop her head in the screen door. "Jack, you home?" she'd shout.

Jack would appear grinning. "Yep," he'd reply.

"Kim home?" Martha would enquire.

"Nup," and he'd eagerly approach her, impatient to have his hands on what he wanted most.

Martha would giggle as he started to finger underneath her top. "Down boy," she'd say.

"Not possible I'm afraid," he'd reply and pick her up, where upon she'd wrap her legs around his waist and start feeling for his belt buckle. He'd groan at the pressure applied and press his tongue deeper into her mouth, feeling her respond in equal measure. Trying to find his way to the bedroom but unable to tear his mouth away from hers, he'd inevitably back her up against a wall or a door frame, and they'd continue in their desperate quest to satisfy each other. That was passion, mixed with lust, mixed with love, Jack thought, and realised he was becoming aroused by the memory. They were the best days; before the marriage. Why had he been in such a rush to change things, when he had everything he wanted without the burdens of a ring and a joint bank account?

888

"This is it."

Jack glanced around him. The doona was striped in differing shades of blue, the walls were painted cream and closed Venetian blinds hid the view. There was a desktop computer resting on a table in the far corner and beside it, a picture of Macca hugging Martha who was grinning into the camera. His view lingered on the picture as he wondered why the room would contain a picture of Martha and her brother. His eyes then roamed around and he began to recognise other familiar objects: a poster of Romeo and Juliet, her jewellery box on the dresser and a print of Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet sitting on a fence, which he had given to her for Christmas one year. If he turned it over he knew what would be written on the back:

_Dearest Martha, _

_May we always be best friends, _

_Just like these two. _

_Jack _

He turned to Macca. "This is Martha's room."

"Well, obviously."

"You never said your roommate was Martha."

"I thought you knew."

"How the fuck was I supposed to know that?"

"Calm down mate. What's the problem?"

"What's the problem? You expect me to sleep in Martha's room. She's in a coma."

"So? She wouldn't mind."

"For fuck's sake Macca. I'm not sleeping in her fucking bed. Jesus Christ."

Jack walked back into the living room, fuming. Macca followed him, bewildered and confused by the outburst.

"I really didn't know you'd have a problem. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well I do. Look I'm going to get going."

"Hang on, just calm down okay? I'm sorry about the room, but you don't have to go. You can sleep on the couch yeah?"

"I don't know."

"C'mon Jack. I was an idiot. I didn't realise using Martha's room would be weird for you, but it doesn't mean you have to go. We're mates, I've got a spare couch and those motels are depressing." Jack had to admit he didn't relish the thought of going back to The Sydney Motor Inn.

"Okay, thanks," he finally relented.

"Great. We're cool then?"

"Yeah. You just caught me off guard. I'm sorry."

"Forget it. I'll get you some bedding."

As Macca walked off, Jack sunk back down onto the couch and covered his face with his hands. Behind his closed lids all he could see was Martha's face, deathly still, on the hospital bed. He scrunched his eyes shut tighter, trying desperately to escape the image.


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

Two weeks had passed since Jack had moved in with Macca and they were getting along fine. In fact a nice little routine had been established. Soccer on Mondays, followed by the pub. Tuesdays Jack would cook and on Wednesdays they'd see Mattie and Ric. Thursday, Friday and Saturday were party nights for whoever was in the mood. Which was always Macca. He sure did know how to go hard. On more than one occasion there'd been a third person of the female variety accompanying the two of them home. Sunday was chill out day where they'd do nothing and order pizza. Jack had to admit it – he loved this new life. It was a life he felt had been ripped away from him just as he was settling into it. One minute he'd been house-sharing with a bunch of guys and throwing parties that lasted until five and the next moment he was engaged, married, divorced and settled down with a new woman and her ready made family. Of course that was not to say he didn't miss Sam and Rory. But he didn't want to go home. Not yet. And as fun as his new-found bachelor lifestyle was that wasn't the reason. It was because she wasn't awake. And he didn't know how to say goodbye.

This afternoon being a Tuesday he'd come home from the hospital and was about to get started on dinner. Looking out from behind the kitchen counter he could see the door to her room. Two weeks and he hadn't been in there again. He wanted to. Badly. He wanted to search through her belongings and see the person she was; the person she'd become. But most of all he wanted to see if there was any sign, any memory she'd kept, any notion of a hint that she hadn't forgotten him.

Glancing guiltily around the room, almost to make sure no one was there to bear witness to his crime, Jack slowly made his way across the floor. The door was closed and with continued trepidation he cautiously opened it. Standing on the threshold he listened intently for any noise – holding his breath to ensure complete silence. Hearing nothing he let out a slow, silent sigh and stepped inside her room.

He noted again the poster and the Winnie the Pooh print and allowed himself to smile at the knowledge she had kept it. He thought back to that Christmas. Foolishly he hadn't enclosed the card in an envelope even though he knew his father – who always sat nearest the tree doling out presents as though they were awards – took great pleasure in reading the entire contents of cards aloud for everyone present to hear. When he had begun on Jack's card to Martha – "Who's Winnie…" Jack turned crimson and lunged at his father, ripping the card from his hands. "Don't you dare," he'd said, and – thoroughly embarrassed, all eyes on him – handed the card shyly to Martha. "Here," he'd mumbled and smiling, she'd taken it from him. After reading it silently and opening the present she glanced up at him and grinned, kissing him quickly as all eyes continued to enquire. She'd loved that present – it was his big success story. Once he'd tried to repeat it by buying her a Tigger stuffed toy but she'd firmly informed him that this was Disney Pooh and Disney Pooh didn't count. Now as he stared at the picture he wondered if she'd kept anything else he'd given her. If there were other reminders of his existence – their marriage. Or were there other men in her life now – he guessed not since no one had mentioned a boyfriend and none came to visit her at the hospital. He couldn't help but feel pleased, however shallow and petty that made him. He begun to open her drawers, looking for photo albums but he could find none and the only picture was that one of Macca on her desk. All he could find was random possessions that all people collected – CDs, books, papers, statements, bills, clothes, jewellery. The wedding album wasn't here – even though he knew she'd taken it when they'd split. He wondered if she'd binned it – trying to erase any memories of that day or if the explanation was more innocent. Perhaps she'd just put it in storage somewhere – moving to the city as she had done. Finally he did find an album. It was a recent one and as he turned the pages he was intrigued to see a Martha with a life that he had no part in. He recognised faces – Cassie, Matilida, Ric and Macca but there were friends that he didn't know. She was hugging people he'd never met. He found one where a group of four unknowns and Martha were standing in front of Ayres Rock. He smiled at her face with its huge grin. Then he laughed out loud at one at a party with Martha screaming at the camera holding a beer bottle while a guy with dark hair grabbed her waist. She looked happy. Maybe she never regretted anything. Maybe she wouldn't have even wanted him here.

Later that night as Macca and Jack ate dinner the thought continued to weigh on Jack's mind. That maybe he played no part in her life – not even her thoughts – and he should just pack his bags and leave. He knew what he had to do, however foolish it may seem.

"Macca. Did Martha ever talk about me?"

Macca glanced up from his curry and didn't seem surprised by the question.

"I was wondering when you were finally going to ask."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been here for two weeks Jack, we've hung out a lot, you've been to the hospital every day, but the one thing we've never talked about, the one thing you've never asked about: is Martha."

"Was she happy?"

"I think so. She found a job she loved and she was just beginning to be the person she wanted to be I reckon. And no, she never talked about you."

"Maybe I shouldn't be here."

"She didn't talk about you for the same reason you didn't ask me about her. Why didn't you ask me about her Jack?"

Jack thought. He didn't know what to ask, or more precisely, he couldn't ask the things he wanted to ask. Jack looked at Macca and said nothing.

Macca collected their empty plates and stood up from the table.

"She'd want you here Jack," he stated simply, before he walked to the kitchen.


End file.
